A Forgotten Melody
by GKingOfFez
Summary: Melody Pond can't be sure about anything any more. Only three things are certain: everyone is determined to lie to her, she loves her mother more than anything else, and the monsters in her drawings aren't just a figment of her imagination...
1. Prologue: The Child

_Thanks to Yaini for Beta'ing~_

_So, I figured I'd get this thing up before the series starts again. I've already written chapter one and I'm almost finished two, so they shouldn't be too long. _

...

A Forgotten Melody

Prologue: The Child

...

_To: Madam Kovarian of the TLW Project_

_From: David Foreman, representative of the Free Human Alliance_

_Subject: Memo_

_Dear Madam Kovarian,_

_We would first like to take the time to congratulate you and all of your people for the persistence and confidence you have displayed in the matter of this project. Your… insistence that the outcome will outweigh all the costs has, for the last several years, given many people hope in the dark times that have come to pass._

_However, the Committee of the Free Human Alliance would also like to remind you, that while you and your people sit comfortably in your secure bunker, innocent people all over the universe are paying the price for your patience in the war._

_ Most recently, the peaceful people of the Beta System had a sighting, and twenty men died in an "accident" involving a creature not seen in that section of the universe for several thousand years. Their names have been added to the endless list of casualties which is growing longer each and every day. And as the list grows longer, our own patience grows shorter._

_So on behalf of the people we represent, we insist upon material evidence that your project is worth the money being scavenged from all corners of the universe, or risk our withdrawal of support._

_Yours Sincerely, _

_David Foreman, representative of the Free Human Alliance._

...

Madam Kovarian was the sort of woman who kept her emotions in check. It was necessary, for if she lost control, even for a second, the result would be catastrophic. She had seen firsthand how emotions could destroy a person and eat them from the inside out, and fully intended to avoid that path at any cost.

But now she felt about ready to blow, with years of anger threatening to boil over the mask of emotionless indifference she had been wearing ever since she had first met the Doctor.

It had come through on a secure connection, a file titled "Memo". With each sentence she read, her blood pressure had risen higher.

_So on behalf of the people we represent, we insist upon material evidence that your project is worth the money being scavenged from three galaxies, or risk our withdrawal of support._

She knew they were bluffing. They wouldn't dare withdraw support at such a crucial time for the project. They had to be bluffing.

Kovarian wasn't the least bit worried about the money. There was always going to be money, no matter whom or where it came from, it was the Committee that worried her. They were greedy, power-hungry men who only cared about protecting themselves.

It had taken mere months to form the Free Alliance, banding people all over the Galaxy against a common enemy. Kovarian herself had been there when the final touches had been made.

But all of that was years ago, and now theAlliancewas slowly falling apart. The Committee were fools, fools determined to keep their positions at any cost.

The reason for the memo was not because they had grown too impatient (for they had done that years ago) it was because they wanted it to look like they were doing something, _anything_ for the war.

"You want to see evidence? I'll show you evidence." She stood up from her desk, and straightened her suit, her mask back in place. She picked up a parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and tucked it under her arm.

They wanted proof that the last eight years had not been wasted? She would give it to them.

While emotions were dangerous things to have, in her time Kovarian had found them to be quite useful. Men who wear their hearts on their sleeves were easier to bend to her will, easier to torment and herd like an animal in the right direction.

And the child…

And the child was no exception.


	2. Chapter 1: Amelia

_Thanks to Des for Beta'ing~_

_Please review! More to come._

...

Chapter 1: Amelia

...

_To: The Committee of the Free Alliance _

_From: Madam Kovarian of the TLW Project._

_Subject: In reply to your memo_

_For the past eight years, this facility has been working non-stop to create a secret weapon which will turn the tide on the war. In that time alone, we have made life-changing discoveries, many of them altering the way we view time and space. But, equally, we have also encountered barriers and setbacks which have slowed our progression, (we would like to remind the Committee that each of these have been overcome and we are currently ahead of schedule). _

_We urge the Committee to remember that the slow development of the weapon is unavoidable and necessary, but when it is complete, it will be used to bring the war to a victorious close. For this reason, we urge the Committee to be patient, and in return for continued support, we have decided to speed the project up considerably, bringing the end of the war closer. This is a risky move, but we are confident of its success._

_In the matter of your insistence to see our progression, we are sorry to say that we can not comply at this time, as we are at a crucial stage of the weapon's development. However, we would be delighted if a representative of the Committee would take a tour of our facility in the near future._

_Signed, _

_Madam Kovarian of the TLW Project._

…

"How are the readings, Jefferson?" Madam Kovarian barked, at the young scientist on duty as she entered the Observation Room.

The young man started, jumping up from his chair in a fright and sent papers flying everywhere. Kovarian groaned. She found it surprising that a bumbling idiot like him had even been considered for the project.

"Ma- ma'am!" The man stuttered, hurrying to pick all of his papers up off the floor. "We weren't expecting you for another few hou-"

"A situation has arisen that needs my _immediate_ and _undivided_ attention."

Jefferson gulped like a goldfish and she smirked.

"Now, the readings. Show them to me."

"Yes Ma'am!" Jefferson jumped to work immediately as if he had been electrocuted, busying himself with one of the monitors.

Kovarian took the time while he was typing almost frantically at the keyboard to walk over to the large window set along the left side of the wall which looked down into the child's containment room.

It looked, as usual, like a paper bomb had hit it. Every surface was covered in the stuff, from the walls to the floors. The bed was unmade, books were unevenly stacked upon the bookcase and toys became tripping hazards scattered across the floor. It made her shudder at the very sight of it, the disorder and chaos.

It disgusted her, but it was necessary. The child needed to believe that it had free will. That it was just like any other child or the whole plan would disintegrate in front of her eyes.

"Ma'am," Jefferson called, and she walked over to him, high heels clicking on the polished floor, and peered over his shoulder at the report displayed upon the screen. The numbers and symbols would have been confusing and complicated to anyone else (for that was the idea), but a smile played at the edges of her mouth as she interpreted their meaning.

"I'm bringing the date of initiation forward," she said and Jefferson furrowed his brow.

"To when, Ma'am?" He asked, obviously concerned.

Madam Kovarian smirked at him again. She rearranged the brown package in her hand and tucked a stray strand of hair back into place, turning towards the door. "Today."

Jefferson, who looked taken aback, jumped to his feet. "What?" He said, looking frantic, "Today? Ma'am, it's too s-"

She laughed humourlessly at him, "You saw those readings, Jefferson." She said venomously, pointing one of her manicured fingers at the monitor. "We reached our absolute minimum two weeks ago."

Jefferson was biting his lip and looking uneasy. He obviously had more to say, but Kovarian had had enough. She turned once again to leave, and had her hand on the doorknob when he finally spoke, sounding a little too eager.

"Ma'am, I know I shouldn't be asking, but... how are you going to do it?"

Madam Kovarian laughed again, high and cold she vaguely remembered an old earth saying her mother had told her, something about curiosity killing a cat.

"My methods are my own business." Ineptly veiled disappointment flashed across the man's face as he turned back to his work.

"Although…" she said, deciding to throw him a bone. "I'm sure you've noticed how attached the child is to that photograph of her mother."

…

Melody. That was her name. Melody Pond.

At least… that was what they called her when Melody was around.

Sometimes at night, when she was falling asleep, she heard them whispering, calling her 'the child', in emotionless voices like she was some kind of experiment instead of a human being.

Not 'Melody'.

Not even 'Pond'.

Just 'the child', and nothing else.

It made her sad sometimes, to think that the people she was growing up around, the only people she had ever known didn't even think of her as a person.

For Melody had grown up in extraordinary circumstances. She lived in the Orphanage. Not just an ordinary orphanage, but _the_ Orphanage. Though it was less like an orphanage and more like a hospital, with its white walls and sterile atmosphere, the people who worked there called it the Orphanage. Everyone walked around wearing white coats and carried important looking papers and wore smart black shoes that sometimes made marks on the floor, although they never stayed there long because the entire place was always unnaturally clean.

It was a grim and boring place to grow up. Melody had figured that out years ago.

There was, however, one place in the Orphanage that was always messy and untidy and normal.

Melody's room was a bit brighter than the rest of it. That was mostly due to the numerous drawings she had stuck everywhere. She had a big room, with really high walls. A single bed with bright bed sheets on them sat with its headboard against one of them, the sheets were messy and twisted, as she rarely made them. The small desk in the corner, where she did her drawings, was littered with spare bits of paper and various coloured pencils, and next to that a small bookcase held several books and all the toys that weren't littered across the floor.

She liked her room for all this, but one thing she didn't like was the large glass window set high on one of the walls, looking into a white-walled room covered in monitors and screens. The "Observation Room", they called it. Another thing she didn't like was the big, heavy door that was the only way in, and was always locked and bolted shut at night.

They told her it was there to protect her. But Melody had a strange feeling that that wasn't the only reason.

Every day the people in white coats came and visited her, bringing their clipboards, doing tests and generally using big, complicated words that she didn't understand. They asked her questions, although that was all they said. They weren't very talkative, as whenever Melody tried to have a conversation and ask her own questions, they simply ignored her and concentrated on their work. Sometimes they looked at her oddly, like they were scared of her. But she had no idea why.

The one person who did talk to her was the only one in the Orphanage who didn't wear a white coat. Her name was Madam Kovarian.

She was a middle-aged woman, who always wore her curly hair up and seemed to have a never-ending supply of lipstick. But her most distinguishing feature was a silvery metal eye-patch covering her right eye, which danced on top of her cheek when she spoke.

After years of knowing her, Melody still didn't quite know if she liked Madam Kovarian. She was nice in her own way, and Melody was glad that at least someone talked to her, as she got quite lonely. But at the same time, something wasn't quite right. The way she smiled at Melody, although seemingly kind and caring, had an edge to it that creeped her out.

Madam Kovarian came to visit Melody once a week, to 'check up' on her. She never knew exactly when she would visit. But every time she did, the bolts of the door were drawn back with their usual bang, and she always entered with a smile on her face. The same smile that always made Melody feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Hello Melody," she would say, and Melody would look up from whatever she was doing (either drawing at her desk or reading in her bed) and say, "Hello Ma'am."

She'd called her Ma'am for as long as she could remember. Hello Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am. Goodbye, Ma'am. Melody didn't even know her first name, even though she'd asked several times for something else to call her.

Every week, the same routine, over and over and over and over again.

Hello Ma'am.

Hello Ma'am.

Hello Ma'am.

Hello Ma'am

Hello Mum- whoops.

She hadn't meant to. One day, it had just slipped out. Melody had been reading a book about a family, a Mum and a Dad and their children the night before. She figured that was where it had come from.

Madam Kovarian had seemed taken aback, and for the first time in Melody's memory, the smile had faltered. Then she had looked angry.

"Sorry," Melody said quickly, scared for the first time she could remember. "I-I didn't mean-"

"That's all right, dear." Madam Kovarian's smile had come back then, though it had seemed much creepier than usual and Kovarian took several deep, steadying breaths. "I understand." And then she turned and left, without saying another word, leaving a very confused and hurt Melody behind.

Madam Kovarian hadn't come for two visits after that.

She didn't _actually_ consider Kovarian as a Mother-figure. She didn't seem the type, for one. Mothers cared and loved for their children and Madam Kovarian was the sort of person who didn't care for love.

Melody didn't know her real mother. All they had told her was that her mother had left when she was only one month old. Left, as in abandoned. At least, that's what they always implied.

She felt sad about it sometimes. And other times she felt angry. And then some days she didn't feel anything at all. But every single day, in one way or another, she always thought about her Mum.

Melody had only one picture of her. It was a framed photograph, which she sometimes kept on her bookcase, to make it seem like her mother was there watching over her, and other times buried deep under her bed.

Most nights, however, she made the sheets of her bed into a tent, holding up the fabric with her head while she shone a torch onto the photo and looked at it well into the night.

"Why? Why did you leave?" She would sometimes say.

They should have been a happy family, like in the books. They should have been together forever, with her mother loving her and being there for her, not just once a week, but every day of the year.

Instead, she was stuck in some bunker under the ground. She hadn't seen the outside world in a long time, and she was starting to run out of things to do.

When her mother didn't answer her question, she would throw the frame across the room, only to immediately rush over with a cry and pick it up again. Surprisingly, the glass never shattered, although the frame holding it together was slowly becoming more battered and scratched and would soon need replacing.

She would apologise, over and over, and carefully place the photo back in its special place on the bookcase and gaze at it for several minutes, burning the image into her mind before turning away. She never wanted to forget her mother's face, half-covered in a waterfall of ginger hair and her eyes shining with joy as she looked down at the new-born baby which was Melody that she held in her arms. It was hard to believe that barely a month later she would abandon that same baby and leave forever.

One day, as Madam Kovarian had turned to leave for another week, Melody had an overwhelming urge to know something, _anything_, about the woman who had brought her into the world.

"What was her name?" She blurted out, and the older woman looked around in surprise.

"Whose name, dear?" She had replied with a falsely cheerful voice and a fixed smile.

"My mother's," Melody replied softly, suddenly shy. Madame Kovarian didn't seem to look surprised at all-if she was, then she was a very good actor- but stared at Melody with a cold, calculating look.

The little girl's heart sunk. _She's not going to tell me_, she thought, hanging her head in defeat. Her whole life she had dreamed of her mother, and now she had blown her only chance to know her in some way.

"Amelia." Madam Kovarian said suddenly, and then quickly left the room, the click clack of her heels soon dying away. But Melody had not noticed, for finally she had a name to match the face in the photograph, a name to associate with their shared red hair. A name to replace the formal and emotionless title of 'mother'.

"Amelia Pond." She said aloud, smiling wider than she ever remembered. She liked the name. It was like a fairytale.

She raced over to the bookcase, and pulled down the picture, excitement making her fingers fumble on the edges of the frame. "Hello, Amelia!" She squealed, grinning from ear to ear.

But all of a sudden, something else occurred to her and her smile vanished. "Amelia Pond," she repeated, this time with an angry tone. She now had a name to associate with the woman who had abandoned her. The woman who had decided there were more important things than her daughter.

Melody suddenly felt very sad.

…


	3. Chapter 2: Bow Tie

_Thanks to Des for Beta'ing. Love you~_

...

Chapter 2: Bow Tie

_To: Madam Kovarian of the TLW Project_

_From: David Foreman, of Committee of the Free Human Alliance_

_Subject: Beside the point_

_Dear Madam Kovavian,_

_We are well aware of the achievements your project has made, Madam, but as you yourself once said, they are small compared to the end result._

_So, while we do understand that one of the conditions set at the very start of your project was complete secrecy, the Committee believes that a certain leniency may be extended towards them in exchange for continued support. And so, we expect an answer to the following questions within the next few days:_

_Why must this weapon take so long to produce? How will it help in our efforts to defeat the Doctor? Why do you believe that it will turn the tide of the war? How do you know that it will work? And, most importantly,_what is it?

_Sincerely, D. Foreman_

…

The Creature walked unnoticed through the white halls, passing men and women dressed in crisp, white clothes, all of whom gave it barely a terrified glance before continuing on their way. They were almost completely unaware of it, their weak, easily manipulated human minds wiped clean of any trace the millisecond it was out of sight. But this was normal, and not to be worried about.

It walked on in silence, taking in the endless white corridors with interest. The order and formality of the entire facility pleased the Creature; everything was structured and clean, like all things should be. The human race was usually a very dirty species, with constant wars and poverty raging across the surface of the earth. But here in this sterile underground maze, it could almost be believed otherwise.

The Creature purred to itself, a truly terrifying noise should any human being have heard it, thinking as it passed another group of white-wearing humans, that maybe they weren't so dirty after all. The species was vaguely civilized, with systems of government and religion and intercultural diversity. Yet, many of the species still faced adversity and hardship, while others were more fortunate and yet, unwilling to share their fortune. Plagues and death were normal, while much of the world sat in ignorance, wallowing in its own filth.

Why, it was hard to believe that one day this species would become one of the greatest civilizations in the universe, firmly planting itself among the stars for millennium to come.

It stopped, having arrived at its destination. This white corridor looked much like all the other ones; unnaturally clean and functional, with one difference. The formidable looking metal door looked very out of place, even if it was painted to match everything else. This was the lowest level of the underground complex, the place where he knew his objective was.

The man guarding the door was looking at him fearfully, his eyes snapping away every few seconds with confusion clouding them. A sudden commotion made both man and alien look to their right, towards the mouth of a staircase which traveled upwards and out of sight.

"…you've noticed how attached the child is to that photograph of her mother," a female voice said, floating down to them from the top.

About a minute of echoing footsteps later, a human woman descended the last few steps with a humourous smirk on her face. The Creature knew who this was immediately; she was the Commander of the facility, and a missionary for the Academy of the Silence, Madam Kovarian, an ambitious and ruthless woman with a strong mind. Certainly not someone that could be detered easily.

"Open!" She barked at the guard, and he jumped to attention, looking confused for a second, before pulling a key from his pocket and turning to open the heavy door.

The Creature backed itself up against one of the white walls, a lowly but necessary gesture, to let Kovarian past. She saw it and nodded, the eye drive covering her right eye allowing the woman to remember when others couldn't, before she turned and walked through the now open door, a package grasped in her hands. It followed.

"Hello ma'am," a child's voice said.

…

Sometimes, if she tried really hard, Melody thought she could remember what life was like before the Orphanage. She had been happy and had laughed all the time, and Amelia had always smiled at her with a loving smile that was very different from Madam Kovarian's one.

But the reality was, she had only been one month old when Amelia had left, and therefore too young to do much of anything, much less laugh. So that particular memory was probably just her imagination.

Most of her dreams were just like that; Amelia and Melody, together, just sitting and talking, though she never remembered what about. Sometimes she imagined two other people there as well, though she didn't have the faintest idea who they were.

One of the people wore red and black clothing, and a cape around his shoulders. She sometimes wondered if he was a superhero, and had drawn several drawings of him flying around everywhere and coming to rescue her, like superheroes do.

The other person had been dressed quite differently, with a coat and trousers. But the one thing Melody remembered most was what he wore around his neck. It was an odd thing, red and shaped like the ribbons she sometimes wore in her hair.

Melody had drawn it once and shown it to Madam Kovarian, who had said that it was a bow tie, and that it was something men sometimes wore around their neck. She had said it with an odd look in her eye, and had looked at Melody strangely for a little while after that.

The next time the white-coat people came they seemed to do more tests than usual and ask more questions.

The bow tie kept appearing in her dreams, so often that Melody had the feeling that it was really important. After a while, Madam Kovarian had told her to stop thinking about it, but it was a hard thing to do.

She drew it many times, and there was even an entire section on her wall dedicated to bowties of all different colours, although many of them were red.

Melody drew a lot of things. She drew herself sometimes, doing things like reading a book, eating food or even sitting at her desk and drawing. She drew Madam Kovarian sometimes, and had lots of fun making her hair really curly.

Sometimes Melody wished that she had curly hair as well.

She'd only drawn Amelia once, using her darkest red for her hair and her greenest green for her eyes, and putting extra effort into it especially. Then when it had been done, she had hung it just beside her bed and looked at it every night before she went to sleep.

"Goodnight, Amelia."

One night, she got angry.

In her books, the families had always lived happily ever after forever. The mother always stayed with the daughter and loved her. But in real life, it wasn't true.

She had ripped the picture from the wall (taking some of the white paint with it) and shredded it in her hands. Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes the whole time, and suddenly her mother was nothing but scraps of paper with red pencil colouring on the floor.

She had cried, then. Sobbed her heart out into her pillow. And in the morning she felt ashamed of herself, and put all the paper scraps into the bin. But she hadn't drawn another picture of Amelia after that. A part of her was scared, and another part was still very angry.

She didn't like her angry parts. But sometimes she couldn't help it when they took over.

One time she had yelled at one of the white coat people, who had accidentally tripped over one of her stuffed toys and grabbed the wall to stop himself from falling. In doing so, he had torn down some of her pictures, including half of her bow tie collection. She had screamed at him for several minutes, until she was red in the face and out of breath, and he had run from the room, fearfully glancing over his shoulder. Melody hadn't seen him since.

But that was nothing, for she had not truly been angry until the day of her eighth birthday.

"Happy Birthday, Melody," Madam Kovarian called as she entered the room with a parcel wrapped in brown paper in her hand.

"Thank you, Ma'am!" Melody replied excitedly, jumping up from her desk and bounding over. Every year, just for her birthday, Madam Kovarian brought her a present. Sometimes it was new pencils and paper, or a new toy, or a nice book. Madam Kovarian had no sooner placed the parcel in her hands, than the paper had been carelessly ripped aside to reveal a set of brightly coloured paints.

"Wow!" Melody whispered, her eyes wide. She rushed over to her desk and began pulling the pots out, finding several sized paint brushes among them. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" She cried, taking a step forward and intending to rush over and hug Madam Kovarian tightly. But she stopped herself just in time, remembering her 6th birthday where she had done just that. Madam Kovarian had screeched in shock and hit Melody hard across the face. Kovarian had apologized immediately, although to this day, Melody was still unsure how sincere she had been.

"I can't wait to use them!" She told Madam Kovarian, pulling a fresh piece of paper out of a stack and popping the lid on the blue jar of paint and picking up the biggest brush. Though she had barely dipped the tip of the brush into the paint when Madam Kovarian snatched it away.

"Melody, before you start, I would like to tell you something."

"What?" Asked Melody, resisting the urge to snatch back the paintbrush, knowing it would result in another slap. "Ma'am." She added politely.

"It's something I think you ought to know, now that you're old enough to understand it."

"What?" Melody repeated, confused. "How come I couldn't know before now?"

Madam Kovarian sighed, suddenly looking much older and sadder than Melody had ever seen her. It looked extremely odd.

"Because your mother didn't want you to know it."

Melody suddenly felt as though all the air had been pushed from her lungs. What could Amelia have not wanted her to know?

"Melody," Madam Kovarian said softly, pulling a handkerchief out of nowhere, "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier…" she hesitated for a second, dabbing at her eyes. "The reason your mother left wasn't because she didn't love you. On the contrary, she loved you very much."

By this time Melody had very much forgotten about the paint, and was staring at Madam Kovarian with a mixture of anticipation and dread. If Amelia had loved her that much, then why was Melody growing up in the Orphanage? And why was Madam Kovarian crying?

"Your mother left you so that you could be safe. You see, you're a very special little girl." Madam Kovarian walked over and kneeled down in front of Melody, taking one of her hands in her own and brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. "You are hope to many, many people."

Melody couldn't move. She felt like her entire life had been leading up to this moment, and listened with wide eyes.

"But other people are afraid of you. One of these is a man," Madam Kovarian spat the word man, and for a second she looked wild and angry. "This man would do anything to hurt you, because you are the only one who can defeat him."

Melody couldn't handle it anymore. "What happened to Amelia?" She asked, although she was absolutely terrified of the answer.

Madam Kovarian sighed. "Your mother knew that this man wanted to hurt you, and she hid you away, so that he couldn't find you."

There was a terrible silence. And then.

"What happened?"

Madam Kovarian looked at her warily, not quite meeting her eyes. "He found her." Her voice suddenly became thick, and she dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief again. "He found her, and when she didn't tell him where you were…"

She left sentence hanging horribly in the air between them and blew her nose with the handkerchief.

Melody was reeling. She found it hard to draw breath, and felt tears fall, hot and angry, from her eyes. She wrenched her arm away from Madam Kovarian's grip.

"Why didn't you tell me this before now?" She said angrily, trying to calm herself by taking deep breaths.

"Your mother made me swear not to tell you. But now I regret-"

But Melody had had enough. "YOU'RE LYING!"

And then she snapped, and started yelling at Madam Kovarian much like she had done to the man in the white coat, except this time her blood felt like it was boiling and her head felt numb. She screamed that it wasn't true, that her mother had abandoned her because she hadn't loved her child enough to do anything else. She yelled so loud and for so long, that she almost believed it was true herself, because it was much better than the alternative, in which her mother had given her life to keep Melody safe.

Tears streamed down her face as she raged and rampaged around the room, overturning the bookcase and breaking the legs off of her desk, sending pencils rolling everywhere. She didn't want to feel anymore, just scream and yell in anger.

Finally she collapsed, exhausted, onto the steel skeleton of her overturned bed, Amelia's picture in her hands. The floor was littered with the debris of books and paper and toys. In the Observation Room, a small crowd had gathered, and were gazing down at her like she was some exhibit in a zoo that had just done something extremely interesting.

But she ignored them. Staring into her mother's eyes, she felt a sob rise in her throat and the overwhelming emotion of shame. "I'm sorry, Mum." She whispered, aware that it was the first time she had ever actually called Amelia that.

She heard Madam Kovarian approach the bed, treading around the wreckage until she kneeled down in front of Melody, much like she had done earlier. For Melody's entire tantrum, she had simply stood against the wall and watched.

"Melody, look at me."

When the Melody didn't respond, she placed her hand under the little girl's chin, and forced her head up until her puffy red eyes were level with Madam Kovarian's one eye and eye-patch. Melody felt the woman's nails dig into her cheeks.

"Melody, there is something else. Do you remember those bow ties you keep drawing?"

She glanced over at where her collection used to be (as much of her drawings were now scattered on the floor) and saw that only one bow tie picture remained. It was one of the red ones.

She nodded, sniffing.

"Well, the reason you remember it is because a friend of your mother's used to where one."

Melody's throat was sore from all the yelling, so she just nodded again.

"Melody…" The woman faltered, as though unsure of how to continue, "This man was the one your mother was trying to protect you from."

Melody just nodded again. But her heart felt like it had been punctured by a needle, and was deflating like a balloon. "So he betrayed her." She said in a monotone voice. Sometime soon, she was certain that nothing would surprise her anymore.

Madam Kovarian nodded, and fell silent, as though waiting for Melody to start yelling again. She very nearly did, but stopped herself when she looked down at her mother's photograph, at her smile and her lovely eyes that seemed to stare into her soul. She looked so young and so beautiful and so brave.

Melody wished she could one day be as brave as Amelia Pond. One day…

"I want to be alone," she said aloud, the words sounding more like a command. Madam Kovarian nodded understandingly, and turned towards the door. Melody missed the smug smile on her face as it closed behind her.

With one last glance at the photograph, Melody went to work, gathering various coloured pencils from the ground and placing them all in a pile. Next she went in search of clean paper, finally extracting some from under the wreck of the bookcase. Her desk lay in ruins, so she cleared a space on the floor, well away from the sticky mess of her recently new paint and lay on her stomach and drew.

Page after page, she drew herself and Amelia. Two redheads, one taller than the other, playing together and drawing together (because Amelia liked to draw) and hugging each other (Amelia liked to hug, too) and doing lots of things that mothers and daughters did.

And then Melody drew her lying down. For that one, she used the red pencil for more than her hair.

The man from her dreams was there as well, sometimes. He leered at her from the page with his ugly, demented face, a black bowtie around his neck. The tip of her pencil snapped off several times from the sheer amount of pressure it was under in her clamped fist while she drew him.

When she had finished, Melody leaned back on her elbows to view it from a distance. Her mother looked so beautiful and sad, but still looked up at her with those loving eyes that were shrouded in pain. The bowtie man looked like something from a nightmare, with pointy teeth and mad eyes and a knife in his hands.

Though her eyes felt heavy, and kept closing by themselves, Melody still picked up her pencil and added one last thing to the drawing before her head drooped onto her arms and she was fast asleep.

…


End file.
